重生之名媛望族 19楼:essay范例3

essay范例3

Then she went the bathroom and soaked a cloth in cold water and wrung it out.

Then faintly the wind woke in the tips of the trees, and shuddered down the orange flame bodies of the poplars, and settled in the hedges where it tossed and sighted.

Rhythmically, gently, the leaves floated outward and down with the stream. Like the hair of a Rhine maiden lifting and falling in enchanted depths.

She darted a rapid glance at Laura, and back.

Beyond her, the rain flashed its silver on the terrace.

He laughed and struck his palms together.

Through the glass doors to the terrace she could see the rain misting on the leaves and the flowers, and sunlight paling through it, so that suddenly it looked as if the sun itself were misting.

She touched one lightly and felt it shudder through its petals. Or was it her own fingers?

The wind struck the house with a needling thrust of rain.

With the gloved hand imprisoned in the pocket of his coat, he turned and walked to the sofa where she waited, and sat down.

The room was brown shadowed and twilit, but not gloomy.

The sky was fuming with clouds. In the wind they were spewed up like foam from the sea, till they lay banked ahead, beaten and frothy.

She had not dared to fashion for herself a limit. 她不敢给自己定下一个限度。

The little stove was panting out its warmth into the room.

It is no small things to enter it, by whatever means.

She rang the bell and waited, listening to the purling of the pigeons in the street, her eyes on a heap of yellow leaves against the door.

She seemed to be the one who had advanced upon the children, spreading rugs beneath the tree.

The tips of the boxwoods were bristling and sighing.

She had not seen it before, except form the window, where it lay clipped but rustic, severe in design but flaming with color.

With his eyes on her expectantly, he brushed the dust from his sleeves with violent, sweeping strokes, and the wind whipped it into a swirl about his face.

Almost at her feet the priest was tackled and brought tumbling and whooping with laughter.

She thought there was a small amusement in the corner of his mouth

He turned upon her slowly his unwavering eyes. For a fraction of a moment, he studied her, then drew his glance deliberately away and slightly moved his shoulders inside the loose coat.

She sat up in bed to brush away the sleep.

It makes him sound crippled, clip-clopping back and forth between the tables.

Incredibly dull people. Industrious, yes. Reliable, yes. Musical, even. But incredibly dull, with no sense of mystery.

The cigarette between her fingers wreathed her face in smoke.

She blew smoke vigorously through her aquiline nose and stubbed out her cigarette with decision.

And a rugged, dogged cheer. And an eye for the detail. And a forthright, manly air.

She began to feel a kind of numbness of longing that was haunted by the gentle mumble of the kettle.

She flung the door open, and he darted through.

She said again, lost again in her handkerchief.

She brooded over the picture.

She stood before them in a sudden blind surge of despair.

As if only at this moment had she broken really free.

The lines of her mouth began to shape a courteous refusal. Her eyes were pleasant but opaque and impervious to appeal.

Presently she heard the doctor leave and mount the stairs and walk down a hall above.

She turned abruptly and retraced her step.

He had taken her hesitation for uncertainty about the chapel.

A small, delayed tremor crept into her throat.

In a moment she must appear to be serene and self-possessed.

She shook her head slowly in a richness of despair.

She was traveling downhill, and the wind was subsiding.

The wind swept though the square and rocked the small car and whistled overhead

Outside lay a world that she could wait to encounter, that was whipped about with wind.

There were wide-spaced eyes, an iris blue, that slanted faintly, striking a kind of angle with the shadows underneath. 描述人眼。

Like the long, gray war which had clouded this land and even now shadowed the years that followed.

With a swift and practiced gesture, he passed the key to the elderly porter who brooded over her bag.

Outside, the wind heaped the rain against her window.

Water was blowing form the high-pitched roofs and puddling among the cobblestones in the great open square.

There was quite a ceremony of umbrellas and sharp calls, a profusion of offered arms, and gestures of support with words she could not understand.

Rain brings out the chivalry in men.

She had thought of slipping quietly inside the little city, of finding herself there almost as if by chance.

When she signed her name at the desk, she felt a sudden wave of disquiet.